


Hell's Angel

by xXAwakenedSecretsXx



Category: Better Call Saul (TV), Breaking Bad
Genre: Awkwardness, Bikers, Bisexuality, Drama, Gen, Guns, Hells Angels, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Canon, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:18:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXAwakenedSecretsXx/pseuds/xXAwakenedSecretsXx
Summary: Jane allows a familiar face to stay the night after much reluctance. Things don't go as planned.





	1. Come As You Are

**Author's Note:**

> **Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic ever published on AO3, bear with me if the chapters may seem a bit short at times.  
> Just for warning I'm going to mention that in this fic there IS implied self-harm in some scenes; if this is a trigger for anybody, I just figured I'd give a warning of some sort.  
> Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy! :)  
> \---  
> Come as you are, as you were  
> As I want you to be  
> As a friend, as a friend  
> As a long enemy

 

It was half-past eleven; Jane Margolis sat atop her bed, an ink pen in hand as she sketched about in a leather-bound drawing book all while listening to the katydids sing outside her window. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion as the night passed on, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to stop drawing; a complexity of shapes and colors decorated the paper before her, and she was eager to finish her newest design. With a gentle sigh Jane lowered the pencil she held, reaching a few feet away for her phone and pulling on a pair of earbuds. Alternative rock began blasting through tiny speakers, and the young woman made it a point to turn the volume down so as not to render herself deaf before carrying on with her work. 

Just as Jane began to feel herself waking up a bit, she jumped at what sounded like strong rapping upon the front door of her duplex. Putting the music on pause with an eyeroll, she set everything aside before hoisting herself up and making way for the door.

_ Who the hell’s up knocking on people’s doors this late at night?  _ She wondered. Perhaps Donald Margolis had yet  _ another  _ bone to pick with his daughter. However, after opening the door Jane discovered it wasn’t Donald who stood before her…

 

Upon the shared front stoop of the apartments stood a woman at least few years younger than Jane, her smoldering eyes large and glassy like a pair of sage-green marbles. The visitor’s gaunt features were illuminated by the porch lighting while the faux leather jacket and leggings she wore fit snug, complementing every curve of her body. Looking off into the distance, Jane caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a black Yamaha parked beside the road. Squinting down at the younger woman through dark lashes, she folded both arms across her chest and propped herself against the doorjamb. 

“Hey....”

“Hey yourself. What are you doing here?” She inquired with suspicion. The girl worried at her bottom lip, eyes darting sheepishly off to the side. “Amanda, answer my question- it’s 11:30 at night. Hell, what are you even doing here at all?” 

 

The woman called Amanda closed her eyes, raising a hand to press delicately upon her temple. 

“Kenny’s out with the boys tonight; ‘s just some ordeal going on that’s gotta get taken care of. Nothing a lady needs to be exposed to, he said.” She sighed, her southern dialect faint as she spoke. “I’ve, ah… got the apartment all to myself.”

“Yeah? Your point being?” Jane tilted her head, listening intently. Amanda gazed up at the darker-haired woman in a pleading manner, tightening her grip on the backpack strap around her shoulder. 

“My point  _ is _ … do you think you can let me stay the night?  _ Please? _ ” She implored. There was a sudden and ominous silence between the two as Jane let the girl’s words sink into her brain. 

“Why should I?” Retorted the artist coldly, pushing her body away from the doorframe. “More importantly, how do I know you aren’t conning me right now?”

“Jesus Christ, Jane... I wouldn’t even  _ think  _ of doing something like that to you!” Amanda hissed in defense of herself. The taller woman only shook her head in disbelief.

“Well you already have.” She chuckled dryly. “Multiple times. You’ve even deceived your own  _ grandmother _ .” The girl froze, falling speechless in defeat. Jane watched as she raised the surface of her wrist to her nose, taking back a step before swivelling around and seating herself upon the front step. Though her back was turned to Jane, the sound of faint sniffling made it apparent that she was crying; at this point, the older woman felt her heart grow heavy with guilt.

 

As conniving and unscrupulous as Amanda Vale could be, unhinged seemed to be a more proper term. Jane never could stand the sight of her crying- even though she may have became someone far different than the quirky, happy-go-lucky girl she used to be. After her mother died, Amanda’s world fell apart. She refused to eat, and began isolating herself from others; at times her manic tendencies would lead her to hop on her bike at eight o’clock in the morning and not return home until the very next day. Then there were other times where she would sit gazing out the window for hours on end as if she were sleeping with both eyes open, unblinking and expressionless. When the nightmares started coming, it only got worse…

 

Jane ran a hand through her jet black hair with a sigh, finally giving in.

“How about we go inside?” The artist suggested softly. “I’ll make you some tea.” She watched as Amanda straightened up from her hunched position upon the steps. The girl timidly turned to peek over her shoulder, revealing trails of mascara marking her cheeks. 

“It’s- it’s… alright if I come in?” She asked, her voice a mere peep. Arms still crossed, Jane gestured toward the open apartment with her head before pivoting around and retreating back inside. Eager to follow behind, Amanda hopped up from the stoop and ambled in straight after, shutting its door with a click.


	2. Chiva

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hey everyone! I'm back with chapter two of this fanfiction- I'm going to try updating more often.  
> I also would like to make it known that I am not entirely familiar with the dissociative episodes of Borderline Personality Disorder and I tried my best to put it into words. I have done plenty of research on the subject, but I'm afraid not enough. If anyone reading this has any knowledge whatsoever about BPD and would like to give me some advice on how to make it more realistic in my story, feel free to leave a comment! :)

“Have you eaten?” Questioned Jane as she set a steaming cup of kava tea upon the coffee table before her friend. “I’ve got some of that ramen crap you like.” Propping both feet up beside her on the couch, Amanda shook her head quickly in response as she grabbed hold of the warm mug.  
“I’m not all that hungry at the moment… thanks though.” She rose the cup to her lips, taking one short swig of tea before setting it down once again. Now that they were under proper lighting, Jane was able to scrutinize the younger woman a bit easier; a series of hickies littered the skin of her neck, while dark circles made themselves clear beneath both eyes. Her face appeared more gaunt than the tattoo artist recalled, indicating she hadn’t been eating much.  
“That greaseball doesn’t hurt you… does he?” The older female found herself asking.  
“No, he doesn't.”  
“Don’t lie to me.”  
“I’m not lying!” Amanda piped up, slamming her fist down against the table on a whim and rattling the glassware. “Kenny and I, we… we have our disagreements sometimes, but it never gets physical. He makes me feel... safe. He’s different from the others.” Nodding her head slowly, Jane continued to scrutinize the woman from her armchair. Despite Amanda’s reassurances, she had a hard time trusting her. Kenny was a member of some white supremacist gang, donning your stereotypical slicked hair and swastika tattoos; common sense led Jane to believe that the man was bound to have a history of some sort.

“You told me you have the apartment to yourself, right?” She crossed one leg over the other in a similar fashion a therapist would whilst analyzing their patient. “Why don’t you want to be alone, Amanda?” The girl began fidgeting nervously where she sat, straightening herself up as she craned her head with a gulp.  
“I hear things.” She began, lowering her voice to a mere whisper as if someone were listening in. “Sometimes I hear laughter coming from the air vents, other times there’s whispers when no one’s even there.” Giving another nod, Jane urged the younger woman to continue. “And… I keep having these dreams- nightmares- where when I try to scream, nothing ever comes out.” The darker-haired female sat still, piecing together all of what Amanda explained.  
“It makes you feel safe when someone else is around.” She stated.  
“Right.” The women sat in silence for a minute or two as Amanda stared blankly at the coffee table’s glass surface. Jane wasn’t stupid; she knew Amanda had stopped taking her meds. The girl was bullheaded, and convincing her to take medication of any sort was as easy as asking a Catholic priest to commit an act of blasphemy. She always insisted on smoking pot in order to treat herself, going under the delusion that any pill a doctor prescribes is “poison”. 

At this point, Jane was ready to head to bed.  
“Don’t let your tea go to waste- that shit isn’t cheap.” She told Amanda, gesturing toward the ivory mug as she rose up from her chair. “I can let you stay for tonight, but you’re going to have to sleep on the couch. I’ve got some blankets and a pillow you can borrow.” Amanda’s gaze shifted from her cup up to Jane, brows creased in question.  
“The couch?” She snickered, narrowing her smokey eyes in offense. “What, I’m a stranger to you now?” Jane crossed her arms, hanging her head with a sigh.  
“I’m sorry, Amanda, I just… that’s not what we are anymore.” She stated. “Don’t make me regret allowing you to stay the night.” In response Amanda pursed her lips without a word, eyes still peering up at the woman in front of her. 

Jane retreated back into her bedroom, growing wearier and wearier as the minutes ticked by. After closing the door behind her, she rummaged around briefly before coming across her worn Rolling Stones t-shirt and choosing it as the one she would wear to bed. She sluggishly began shedding clothing piece by piece, pulling on the band tee once she was down to nothing but her lingerie. Jane then pulled on a pair of sweatpants and strode into the bathroom.

Walking over to the sink with short strides, the woman paused, taking note of the purple toothbrush that sat in the holder adjacent her electric blue one; it’s been months, though she often forgot to throw it away no matter how much it bothered her.  
“Jane?” Amanda called from the living room, startling the tattoo artist from her thoughts.  
“I’m in the bathroom.” She replied as she began to reach for the blue toothbrush.  
“Do you have a brush I can use?”  
“Well duh, do you expect me to walk around with bedhead all day long?” Snickered Jane. “It’s on the nightstand in my room.” She listened contently as she heard her guest trek across the apartment.  
“Thanks.” The younger woman said as she passed the bathroom. Brushing her teeth, Jane smiled in response.

Amanda strode into her host’s bedroom nonchalantly, stopping in her tracks to take in all that there was; the room stayed the same, from its psychedelic mural, to the warm aroma of patchouli and frankincense. She remembered all the times she and Jane would smoke together without a care in the world, their minds at ease as the skunky scent of marijuana lingered about the hazy room. Pushing all nostalgia aside, Amanda continued on toward the nightstand. However, just as the girl’s attention was caught by the wooden brush, her gaze fell upon the item resting beside it- one small, plastic baggie of a fine pale powder.. 

Glancing back quickly over her shoulder to see if Jane was still at bay, she pursed her lips. Without a moment of hesitation Amanda shoved the bag into one of her bra cups. She then proceeded in taking hold of the hairbrush, backing away from the nightstand and putting on her best poker face as she ambled past the bathroom once again- this time, Jane was rubbing lotion on her arms.  
“I’ll bring out some stuff for you in a few, alright?” Jane spoke up.  
“Sure, no problem- I’m not going anywhere.” Amanda responded, her mind racing as she did so. As much as her discovery plagued her, she decided not to bring up such matters until morning.

Few minutes later, Jane walked out carrying a spare blanket and pillow for the younger woman to borrow. After the two wished one another good night, she flicked off the lights and headed back to her own room. All that filled her mind at the time was Amanda. Amanda with her head of wine-red hair, weakened from years of heat and coloring. Amanda trying the best she could to shift her scarred wrists out of sight. Amanda subconsciously chewing her lip the way she always did when she was nervous. Amanda making her way back into Jane’s life, where Jane least wanted her to be. Amanda the lunatic; Amanda the liar.

\---

As the minutes passed on, the younger woman found herself staring into nothing but darkness; her body wanted to sleep, but her brain wanted to stay awake. Her mind was bouncing relentlessly from one thought to another like a pinball machine. The couch was anything but comfortable, and Amanda wished she’d taken a long, warm shower beforehand- it was her typical routine before heading to bed. However, she knew in her heart she wouldn’t be getting a wink of sleep that night. There was always a presence, a feeling of uneasiness no matter where she was.

\---

After half an hour of tossing and turning miserably, Jane decided to slip out of bed for a glass of water. As she approached her bedroom door and took hold of its handle, she paused at what sounded like the television playing at a low volume. Giving the knob a gentle turn with a scrunch of her brows, the artist was greeted by a hallway illuminated by flickering blue light. She squinted against the brightness as she carefully made her way forward. The closer she inched toward the living room and kitchen, the easier she was able to hear what sounded like someone flipping through tv channels at a low volume.  
“Amanda?” She spoke up, continuing to brace her eyes against the light. No reply. All that was audible were the wide range of voices offered from adult cartoons and late-night talk show hosts. The moment Jane made way into the living room, she caught sight of Amanda staring blankly at the flatscreen as if completely absorbed by it. Her head was tilted at an angle and the reflection of light glinted off her eyes. She didn’t seem to acknowledge her hostess’s presence, not even with a blink. The only movement she made was continuously bobbing her thumb down atop the remote at a steady pace. “Amanda, can you hear me?” Nothing but silence. Jane turned on a nearby lamp and blocked the younger woman’s view of the television- still no response. She figured the girl was just experiencing a dissociative episode, and eventually lowered herself down to eye level. As eerie as it seemed, the tattoo artist wasn’t intimidated- she was no stranger to Amanda zoning out, especially during her periods of anxiety or stress. “You’re safe… you’re in a safe place.” Jane reassured in a hushed tone of voice. The artist gave the remote in her friend’s grasp a quick glance before prying it away with caution and switching off the television. She then set the device aside on an end table, only to replace it with her hand.

It took a good ten minutes or so of gentle words and reassurance before Amanda gradually began to come around.  
“What… what happened?” She squinted over at Jane, raising a hand to her temple. “I didn’t wake you... did I?” The tattoo artist gave a shake of her head before responding.  
“I got up for a glass of water and realized the tv was on. You were sitting here all blanked out. Something bothering you?” Jane watched in silence as her friend tensed up slightly.  
Amanda sat there thinking, trying to recall what it was that she may have been triggered by... and then it hit her. 

The red-haired female sighed, glancing down in a sullen manner as she carefully pulled her hand out from underneath Jane’s. She was given a look of scrutiny in response and chewed at her bottom lip as she spoke up.  
“I remember I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d watch some tv to try and help get my mind off of things. Then there was something I saw that… reminded me of her.”  
“Reminded you of who?” There was a brief pause in conversation. After Jane perked her brows while awaiting a response, Amanda’s eyes shot up. It was clear the girl was doing everything in her power not to cry.  
“My mom.” She said hoarsely. “There was this… car, it was identical to hers; it got stuck in the middle of some railroad tracks and-”  
“It’s okay Mandi, you don’t need to talk about it.” Jane interrupted, taking her by the hand once again and looking into her doe-like eyes with a soft smile. “Come on, let’s get you dressed into something comfortable- you can come sleep in my room tonight.”

Amanda’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Without a moment of hesitation she hoisted herself up from the couch.  
“You’re sure?” She asked.  
“Yes, I’m sure. I’d tell you if I weren’t, you know that.” The younger woman smiled gratefully. However, as Amanda followed Jane to the bedroom, she prayed her friend wouldn’t notice the baggie of heroine missing from her nightstand.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter of Hell's Angel, thanks for reading- I know it isn't much yet, but there will be more soon! Be sure to comment and give plenty of feedback! ;)


End file.
